


it's you i want to go on seeing

by hihoplastic



Series: STV Tumblr Prompts/Reposts [5]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4906024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/pseuds/hihoplastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>j/c minifics (less than 1000 words). title from pablo neruda's "love"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you please me more each afternoon (forbajor / height difference)

**Author's Note:**

> \- @forbajor made [this amazing post](http://forbajor.tumblr.com/post/126867569388/think-about-the-size-difference-between-janeway) and my hand slipped  
> \- title from pablo neruda's "love"

**you please me more each afternoon**

There's a muffled cursing coming from the bedroom, and Chakotay frowns, stepping further into the living area.

"Kathryn?"

"In here," she calls - she doesn't sound upset, but her comm had been slightly strained when informing him she'd be late for bridge duty, and he quickly covers the distance.

"Everything all-" He freezes, his concern morphing to confusion and amusement when he spies her, bent over and rifling through a drawer. "Kathryn?"

She jerks, startled, and Chakotay smothers a laugh, and also a groan - she’s wearing her slacks and boots and her hair is neat, but her jacket and shirt are laid out on the bed and she’s completely naked from the waist up.

"Oh, good," she breathes, abandoning the drawer. "I need your height."

"My-" Chakotay swallows, dragging his eyes from her bare chest to her face, but she hasn't noticed. "What?"

Kathryn huffs, her hand on his wrist as she pulls him back into the living room, and points at her bookshelf. "Get it down."

His eyes have wandered again and jump to hers, and despite the fact that it's nothing he hasn't seen - less than two hours ago, in fact - he feels his neck flush. "Sorry?"

Kathryn glares - but he can tell by the quirk of her lips that she's amused - and puts her hands on her hips, which does absolutely nothing for his concentration.

"My bra, _Commander._ "

Chakotay frowns, then finally follows her gaze to the top of the bookshelf, a beige bra strap just visible over the edge. On the floor are several pillows, and she'd dragged a chair closer, then seemed to reconsider (they've never been particularly stable), and a few books have been precariously stacked on top of one another and he can imagine her perfectly, just out of the shower, in her robe (or not), stretching on her toes to reach the errant garment, lip caught in her teeth as it often is when she’s concentrating and—

“Chakotay.” 

He clears his throat. “Right.” He shakes his head, gesturing to the bookshelf. “I’ll just—”

“Please do,” she says. “It’s your fault it’s up there anyway.” 

Chakotay snags the bra and hands it to her, disappointed when she slips it on easily and beelines for the rest of her uniform. “My fault?”

She pauses in putting on her tank top to throw him an arched eyebrow. “Last night?”

Heat rushes behind his ears - she’d been stuck in trade negotiations for almost a week, he’d barely spoken to her let alone anything else, and last night they’d finally left orbit. She’d finally been off duty. They’d finally had a night to themselves.

He doesn’t quite know how her bra made it to the top of the bookshelf, but everything after is pretty clear. Interrupting her hands, he zips her jacket and settles his palms on her hips. “I don’t remember you complaining at the time.”

She laughs, a soft sound that makes him smile instantly - _autonomic response,_ he remembers the Doctor saying once - and leans closer, her hands flat against his chest. He can’t quite help the kiss he presses to her forehead, awestruck as he always is when she sighs, a tiny, contented exhale, and arches up on her toes to kiss him. His hands slide around her back, hers around his neck and for a moment he just gets lost - the warmth of her skin as he sneaks a hand under her uniform at the base of her spine, her nails against his scalp, the playful brush of teeth against his lip.

“Not much to complain about,” she murmurs as she pulls away. “However, if you could refrain from throwing my undergarments to places I can’t reach, I’d appreciate it.” 

“I don’t know - I quite enjoyed the end result,” he teases, laughing as she smacks him lightly in the chest.

(He pays for it three days later, when he has to comm her to come get his boxers out from under the bed.)


	2. sweetness, always (anon / coffee vs tea)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- anon request, "coffee vs tea"  
> \- titled after neruda's poem of the same name

**sweetness, always**

Kathryn eyes the liquid in her mug skeptically. It’s thin with a greenish tint and a small, pink flower blossoming at the bottom, and she tentatively sniffs at the steam.

“It won’t bite,” Chakotay says, settling next to her on the sofa, a mug of his own warming his hands. 

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

He chuckles, watching her bemusedly as she blows softly over the top of the cup. When the tea settles, she sniffs it again, tentatively poking out her tongue to taste. He laughs at her face, her wrinkled nose and poorly disguised disgust as she holds the mug away from her. 

“You barely tasted it,” he says, but can’t bring himself to be annoyed. It’s far too amusing, watching her approach a mug of tea with more trepidation than she does First Contact situations. “It’ll help you relax.” He leans back into the cushions, hoping she’ll follow his lead. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a day off.” 

“Velocity is relaxing,” she counters, but mimics his position. Chakotay ducks his head and takes a sip of his tea to hide a smile. “Reading is relaxing.” She glares at the affronting mug. “Coffee is relaxing.”

She’s nearly pouting, her expression forlorn and he almost feels bad for her. Almost, and not enough to keep from remind her, “The Doctor said no caffeine for 48 hours or you’re liable to overdose.”

Kathryn snorts. “I’ve been drinking coffee long before _Voyager_ without incident.”

“Yes, but you hadn’t been on duty for five years straight before _Voyager_. At least I hope not.” She tosses him a mild warning glance, but doesn’t argue, abandoning her tea on the table to pinch the bridge of her nose. Chakotay softens. “Headache?”

Kathryn nods. “All day,” she admits, throwing him a wry smirk. “Guess what’s in all the hyposprays?”

Chakotay laughs softly. “When the cure is the disease…” He watches her a for a moment, then leans forward and hands her her mug. “It really will help.” 

Kathryn sighs, but reluctantly takes the cup. She cradles it in her palms against her chest, but still doesn’t drink it. 

“Has it really been five years?” she murmurs. 

Chakotay hesitates. “Feels like longer?” 

Kathryn frowns into her mug. “No,” she says, and he can tell she’s surprised. “It feels like no time at all.” She meets his gaze. “Is that wrong?”

Chakotay shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips. “I don’t think our interpretation of time is a good thing or a bad thing,” he says. “It just is.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“You mean, do I think you should feel guilty for occasionally forgetting how long we’ve been out here? Or for enjoying the time we’ve spent together?” Kathryn’s lips purse, and Chakotay resists the urge to reach for her hand. “I thought we’d established how the crew feels about that,” he says, his voice low and gentle, relieved when she doesn’t tense. 

“I know,” she murmurs, and he knows she’s thinking about the Void, about the bridge, about her senior staff’s faces, defying her orders. Maybe even his face, though he can’t say for certain if he played any part in getting her back. “I’m just… not good with down time.”

It’s the closest they’ve come to really talking about it, and he smiles at the admission. “I’d say that’s an understatement,” he teases, and she tosses him an amused glare. 

“Careful, Commander,” she says, stressing his rank, but he can tell by her eyes that she’s all mirth and no anger. 

He raises his mug to her in deference. “Of course, Captain.” He hesitates, taking a long drink of his tea before he chances, “I’m sorry.”

She waves him off. “It’s forgiven, Chakotay. You did what you had to–”

“Not for that.” She arches an eyebrow, and Chakotay smirks. “I’d do that again in a heartbeat.”

Her eyes scan his face. “Then what?”

“For letting it come to that.” She stiffens, her gaze dropping to the floor and he scoots closer, unthinking, and rests a hand on her arm. “I mean not being there,” he corrects. “You needed a friend and I…I didn’t try hard enough.”

Her eyes widen, and she reaches for him at the same time he falls away. “Chakotay…” She swallows, and he can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it, her jaw tensing and releasing before she manages, “You tried. That’s more than most would have done.”

There’s no blame in her voice, no resentment. He searches her face, startled to find her expression open and honest - not raw, not revealing, but he realizes for the first time since they escaped the Void that she really hadn’t expected him to do more than he’d done. 

He isn’t sure what hurts more: than she hadn’t expected it, or that he hadn’t done it anyway. 

Kathryn squeezes his arm and releases him, leaning back into the sofa again, and he knows the conversation is over. Given the last few months, he thinks he owes her some boundaries while he earns the lack of them back. 

“I can’t do it, Chakotay,” she admits, and her voice is so empty that he panics.

“Kathryn?”

She sighs, staring down into her mug morosely. “Early Grey is one thing - even English Breakfast I can tolerate - but… _herbal tea._ ” She nearly shudders at the words.

He laughs. He can’t help it, the pitiful look on her face too much, and Kathryn cracks a smile, chuckling along with him. 

“Besides,” she says, “It looks like Leeola root.” She sniffs it again. “Smells like it, too.”

Shaking his head fondly, Chakotay takes her mug away and recycles it before ordering two more drinks. Returning to the sofa, he hands her the cup, delighted when her eyes brighten. 

“How did you know?”

His lips quirk as he watches her inhale the smell of cocoa, burying his smile at the small bit of whipped cream on her nose. “How did I know my caffeine addicted, anti-tea, sweet-toothed Captain loves hot chocolate? Lucky guess.”


End file.
